For Better or Worse
by Historica
Summary: Daine and Numair are finally wed, but a figure from the past crops up to try to cut short their happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

_ Disclaimer: They're not mine. I just like to play with them. All credit for Daine, Numair and all the rest to the glorious Tamora Pierce._

The lively, chattering crowd spilled out of the large stone manor into the spacious courtyard. Music cut through the clear, sharp night air, flowing from the great hall with the light that brightened the dark yard.

There was a snap to the breeze that cut through night air; frost had painted the branches and stones and made visible the breath of those who talked and sang in cross near the entrance.

A tall, lanky man wearing elegant floor-length mage's robes, black with silver embroidery, cut through the middle of the crowd leading a much smaller, delicate young woman, her smoky brown curls threatening to escape from their elaborate twists and braids in the wind. The skirt of her delicate white gown fluttered and shimmered with each step she took. A low chant started among the crowd, and suddenly the man seized the young woman by his side and swept her into a passionate kiss, bending her back in a dramatic show worthy of any Player's performance. The crowd cheered with glee.

Numair Salmalin set his beautiful bride back on her feet with a mischievous grin.

"You look incredibly pleased with yourself," Veralidaine Sarrasri - or rather, Veralidaine Salmalin - told him with a wry smile.

"I thought it was one of my better ideas," he said, still grinning.

The day still seemed like it must be a dream from which he would yet wake. When Daine had finally agreed to marry him, it had taken every favour they were both owed to convince King Jonathan and Queen Thayet not to insist on a wedding at the palace. The stuffy court event, rich with formalities and frivolities would not have suited either of them. But when Alanna of Pirate's Swoop and Olau, one of Numair's dearest friends and the King's Champion, had practically begged them to let her host at Pirate's Swoop, the offer seemed too good to be true. With Alanna's husband, George, at the helm of the arrangements, they could be guaranteed a rollicking, rambunctious party. And that's exactly what they had gotten.

Thayet still had her hand in the planning. She had insisted on having Daine's dress made and her impeccable taste shone through every stitch. When he had seen Daine walking toward him as the sun was setting, his breath had caught in his throat until he thought his chest would explode. He had gazed with awe at her as they danced around the floor, the material soft against his hands as he enjoyed the way it hugged Daine's body. Even now, with a rich blue travelling cloak tied about her shoulders in a heavy, high-quality wool, with silver embroidery that matched that on his own robes and cloak, she was a stunning picture in the moonlight.

He leaned down and pressed another gentle kiss to her lips. "And, now, if I might propose another brilliant idea - shall we take our leave?" he murmured.

That was the other advantage Pirate's Swoop offered. His own cottage was conveniently close, allowing for an easy escape from the festivities.

Daine smiled up at him. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. I can call Spots and Cloud?"

Numair shook his head. "I have... a surprise for you." He pointed to where a stable-boy was bringing Spots over, saddled and ready. "Cloud is already waiting at my cottage."

"But..." Daine started, and Numair silenced her with a finger to her lips.

"Trust me," he said, replacing his finger with his lips to the crowd's obvious delight.

He ushered Daine toward Spots, who was being held in place by the stable-boy. He could see Alanna, George, Thayet, and Jon all watching him with large grins, and he swallowed hard. He sent a silent plea to any gods who might be listening that he not end up looking like an idiot.

With what he hoped was calm self-assuredness, Numair grasped Daine firmly around the waist. Using the barest touch of his magic to help, he lifted Daine and set her side-saddle onto Spots. He then seized the saddle and swung himself up to sit behind Daine as the crowd clapped, cheered, and cat-called.

Daine looked back at him with shock. Numair had many talents, but it was well known that he was not a horseman. "The last time you tried to get on Spots, by yourself, you almost fell off the other side," she said, her tone slightly accusing.

A slight flush coloured his cheeks as he gathered the reins. "I... had practice."

"Practice?" Daine repeated. "Lifting me onto a horse?"

The flush deepened. "Well... Alanna pretended to be you."

Daine looked across the courtyard at the short redhead, standing with her husband and waving gaily, cheering very enthusiastically. She looked very pleased with herself.

"Shall we?" Numair murmured in her ear, pulling her attention away from the many things she was going to do to get back at Alanna for keeping this a secret. She nodded, and Numair urged Spots forward out of the courtyard, away from the cheers.

Daine settled into the trip as the sound of the party died behind them. It was comfortable, resting against Numair's chest with his arms wrapped around her. The warmth from his body took the edge from the crisp night air. Spots was always an obliging mount, the result of years spent carrying Numair, and it was an easy ride. Although Numair's cottage was only a short ride away, Daine found she soon dropped into a light doze.

Numair smiled to himself as he continued to guide Spots, enjoying the warmth and weight of the beautiful woman in his arms. He remember how hard he had fought against his feelings for Daine when he realized they were developing, the many late-night arguments with himself that he was too old, she was too naïve, it was inappropriate. He remembered, somewhat shamefully, the times he had tried to distract himself with some curvaceous, buxom, but vacuous blond - in short, a woman who was everything Daine wasn't. He smiled at the memory of their first kiss, Daine's stubborn refusal to accept his protestations, the joy and acceptance of their friends when they revealed their relationship. And now...

Daine stirred as Spots slowed, then stopped in front of a pretty, sprawling cottage, set well back from the main road, with a picturesque yard filled with trees.

Numair pressed a kiss to the top of Daine's head as another stable-boy rushed out to hold Spots. "Welcome home, magelet," he murmured.

His dismount was somewhat more typical of Numair's usual horsemanship abilities, and Daine giggled. "Insolent wench," he grumbled as he reached up for her. His revenge was swift as he deftly flipped her over his shoulder in a pirate's carry and turned, heading for the house. A young boy had dashed up and grabbed Spots's reins.

"Numair! Numair, put me down! This instant!" Daine commanded, her fists beating uselessly against his back.

"Nonsense, my sweet," he sang. "It's a time honoured tradition that one must carry their new bride over the threshold. And we daren't offend the gods." With a flourish, he swung Daine from his shoulder and set her gently on her feet in the cottage's front room, straightening her cloak and skirts. "Voila!"

"That is NOT what they mean!" Daine said sternly, though a smile played around her mouth.

Numair covered her mouth with his own in a brief kiss. "The gods can be so hard to interpret sometimes," he quipped as he pulled away. Daine slapped his chest lightly, knowing he would not let her have the last word. He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingers before releasing it and turning his attention to the clasp on Daine's cloak. He drew it gently from her shoulders and turned to hang it up, removing his own as well.

The simple gesture sent a strange sensation through Daine, immediately setting aflight the butterflies that had been waiting in her stomach all day long and had been lulled into quiet by their peaceful trip here.

Palace gossip had placed her in Numair's bed since she was a mere student; in reality, Numair had been acutely aware that of the damage that had been inflicted upon Daine's reputation by her affiliation with him and had seemed even more insistent that there be no reality to those rumours. They had certainly enjoyed kissing one another, exploring each other's bodies with their hands; they talked late into the night, enjoying each other's company and often awoke together. But Numair had swiftly clamped down whenever their … activities... had become to ardent, too dangerous. When hands strayed too far under clothes, when inhibitions were lowered. Daine deserved better, he insisted.

She wasn't sure if it was better, but it was important to him. And it was touching, that her reputation meant so much to him. But now, tonight... now there were no social constraints holding either of them back. This was what she had wanted for months. What she had yearned for all those nights in his tower, in his arms. If she could just get her stomach to agree.

To calm her nerves, she looked around. She had not been here before. They had ridden by it before, on their way to Pirate's Swoop, but when they came here, she stayed with Alanna. The main room was a large, spacious area, relatively sparse with simple furniture. Someone had put a bouquet of dried flowers on the table, and a roaring fire had been built in the heart before they arrived. Numair was adding wood now, the firelight glinting off the silver embroidery in his robes.

She stepped over to a large window and peered out. Her curiosity was well-rewarded. The window looked out onto the ocean, showing the waves crashing against the sharp, black rocks. The moon shone across the top of the water, while stars winked at them from the inky black sky. In the far distance, she saw a whale break the surface of the water.

"I added this window after I bought the place," Numair whispered, his arms sliding around her waist as he stepped up behind her to enjoy the view. Daine started in surprise, though she quickly forced herself to relax into his hold. "There's another window like this in the bedroom, but the view isn't quite as nice."

Daine's stomach gave a quick flop at the word 'bedroom', but Numair did not say or do anything else. Instead, he just stood, holding her, staring out at the crashing waves. Daine closed her eyes and tried to let the sound wash over her.

She sighed as she felt Numair's lips press against the top of her head, his hands caressing across her stomach. He trailed kisses down to her temple, along the curve of her jaw, dropping to the sensitive spot where her neck joined her shoulder as she tipped her head to give him better access. He made his way back up, caressing her lovely neck with his lips, his hands tracing the beautiful curves displayed to such advantage by her gown.

"Shall we retire, my love?" he murmured in a voice thick with want.

Daine's breath caught in her throat, choking off any reply. She tried to nod, but seemed frozen in place and instead just stared straight ahead.

Numair drew back at the sudden change in her demeanour, turning Daine in his arms. He gently raised her chin until he could look down into her face, his large hand sliding to cup her cheek. "Daine," he said softly. He waited until she had lifted her eyes to his. "We won't do anything you don't want to do," he finished, his voice gentle. "I promise. If you want, we can just go to sleep." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, then another, each a mere invitation without even a hint of demand.

Daine responded warmly, if somewhat tentatively, wrapping her arms around him. Numair gathered her close with one arm still wound around her waist as he deepened the kiss. The hand that had been resting against her cheek slid back to stroke her beautiful, errant, disobedient curls...

And immediately he found his fingers entwined in one of the countless twist and braids that had been used to subdue those curls into order for the wedding. Daine broke the kiss with a yelp.

"I'm so sorry," he said as he carefully untangled his fingers, but Daine could only giggle. Numair soon joined in with a hearty chuckle as he finally released his hand.

He grasped her face again, brushing several feather light kisses across her cheeks and nose as she continued to giggle. "What, exactly, did Thayet use to secure your hair in place?" he finally asked.

"About a thousand hair pins," Daine answered.

"A thousand?" Numair repeated, smiling down at her.

Daine shrugged. "Give or take."

Numair fiddled with the twist that had come loose as he had untangled himself. "Well, perhaps we might start there." He took Daine's hand and began leading her to a far door in the cottage without another word.

When he pushed it open, Daine felt her breath catch again for a moment. A large bed, with rich coverings, stood in the middle of the room. Daine could see the coast again through the window. This was his bedroom.

If Numair noticed her reaction this time, he said nothing. Instead, he pulled a stool away from a dressing table, and gestured for her to sit down. When she had, he began slowly and gently unpinning her hair, untwisting each of the braids and curls and removing a countless number of hair pins. Daine might have over-estimated the hairpins in her hair, but only slightly. She closed her eyes and leaned back against Numair's body slightly, enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair.

She hardly noticed when his hands fell away until she felt her skirts move. Her eyes snapped open to see Numair knelt in front of her, unlacing her delicate slippers. She watched as he removed each, then stood, carrying them to a wardrobe and placing them neatly inside. He calmly removed his own mage's robes, hanging them up carefully before unlacing his boots and placing them beside hers.

The serene, unhurried manner in which he did all this seemed to have a calming effect on Daine. She watched as he crossed back to her, smiling slightly, his eyes soft. He brushed her cheeks with his knuckles as he crossed behind her, standing at her back again.

"May I?" he said quietly, resting his hands at the back of her dress, where the laces held it tightly together. He looked up, catching her eye in the looking glass on the dressing table. She nodded, not trusting her voice.

He gently urged her to stand and untied the lacings, loosening each from its grasp until the dress hung loosely from her shoulders. Without a word, he slipped it down her arms, sliding the dress from her body, untying petticoats and letting them fall, until she stood only in a simple, soft cotton shift.

Moving to stand in front of her, Numair held his arms out and helped Daine step out of the center of her beautiful gown and petticoats. With the same methodical calmness, he hung up the dress before turning back to her.

He was wearing only a soft white cotton shirt that showed off his lean but muscular form, and fitted black breeches. Suddenly Daine stepped forward, eagerly, letting Numair pull her into his arms.

Sweet fire raced through her body as she found herself crushed up against him. She met the passion, heat, and desperation of his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling herself up on to her toes to press herself more firmly against his body. She could feel the heat from his chest even through his shirt, and his hands caressed her back.

Suddenly it wasn't enough. She needed to feel more of him. She dropped her hands and began tugging at the edge of his shirt, pulling it free from his breeches so she could slip her hands underneath, caressing along his bare stomach to his chest.

At the first touch of her fingers against his skin, Numair gave a heady groan against her lips. Together, they pulled his shirt off over his head and Numair tossed it aside. Feeling surprisingly brave, Daine reached for the tie on his breeches.

His body shuddered with need at the feeling of those small, careful fingers at his waist. As Daine succeeded in loosing the tie, Numair suddenly caught her hands again, breaking their passionate, lust-fueled kisses.

With a heated gaze, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her from the floor. Daine's arms went back to his neck in surprise as he carried her across the room, and in one smooth fluid motion, laid her gently on the bed. He leaned over her, pressing more kisses to her face, her neck, her chest, as his hands skimmed down over her body and caught the edge of the thin shift. He whispered encouragingly as he pulled the shift up and over her head. Quickly, he divested himself of his own breeches before joining her in the bed.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured, his large hands caressing her skin as he gazed down at her. "So absolutely perfect. Do you know how much I love you?"

Daine blushed from the intensity of his stare, feeling self-conscious in only her breastband and loincloth, and at the same time, thrilled by the sensations being sparked by his hands. She brought her own hands up to frame his face. "I love you too, Numair," was all she said, pulling him down for a kiss.

This was more than she had imagined. Everywhere their bodies touched it was like she was on fire. His skin against her skin, holding, caressing. She whimpered as one hand traced over her hip and brushed along her bare thigh while his legs entangled with hers. When he deftly removed her breastband and trailed his lips from her neck, down her chest, to caress one bare breast, she cried out, trying to pull him even closer. She felt as if she would explode from the pressure.

Suddenly he pulled away, bracing himself on his arms over her. "Daine," he said quietly, intensely. "Are you sure about this? I meant what I said. We don't have to."

She reached to pull him back down. "I'm sure, Numair," she whispered, as his mouth began its assault on her senses again. "I love you. I'm sure."

"I love you too, magelet," he said between kisses. "I will love you forever."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: They still aren't mine. They're just following me on this little misadventure. _

There was a chill in the air. Daine wriggled away from its cool touch, deeper into the warmth enveloping her, enjoying the way it wrapped around her, filling her with a sense of safety and security and... and completion. She took a deep breath, enjoying the familiar scent of sandalwood and spice, and some other unnameable quality that she associated with comfort and love.

Her sleep-fogged brain did a slight double-take when her warmth shifted as well, its grip tightening, pulling her closer. Daine slowly became aware of the arms wrapped around her, the slight tickle of chest hair under her cheek, the reassuring rhythm of breath against her hair and heartbeat under her ear.

She had awoken in Numair's bed before, and even in his arms, when their nighttime talks had stretched into the mornings, or when they were travelling and away from palace chatter. But this was distinctly different. Now she felt not as though she was merely awaking beside him, but rather that she was wrapped in him, as if he was a piece of her that had been missing and had finally been added. That she was whole. And she was so incredibly happy. She wanted to lay like this forever, Numair's long limbs tangled about her small body, his skin pressed to her skin.

Daine marveled at where she was. Sarra's bastard child, the shame of Snowsdale. How often had she been told that no respectable man would ever want her? How often had she been turned away, taunted, ignored, even hunted? She had spent so much of her life feeling inadequate and incomplete. But here, in Numair's arms (a fleeting thought wondered whether Snowsdale would consider the tall, eccentric mage "respectable") she was none of those things. She was simply his. His magelet. His love. His wife.

She had just decided to enjoy a few more minutes of sleep in her husband's arms when she suddenly heard a sharp noise outside their room. She looked to the door, which was closed. Had Numair closed it last night? She couldn't remember his having done so. There was another noise. Daine tried to rise, but found herself held too tightly.

"Numair! Numair!" she whispered urgently, trying to twist out if his grasp. "There's someone here! In the cottage! Numair!"

"S'ardith," he mumbled sleepily, trying to pull her back into his arms.

"What?!" she said insistently, still trying to rise and batting his hands away.

"It. Is. Ardith," he repeated slowly and sleepily, barely opening his eyes as he gathered her back to him. "My housekeeper. Lovely woman. Not as lovely as my wife. Come back to bed."

The words had barely left his mouth when the door to the bedroom opened and a short, plump, round-faced woman bustled in. Daine quickly pulled away from Numair and gathered the blankets and sheets to cover herself. Numair finally released her with a chuckle. He settled himself back against the many pillows on the bed, hands behind his head.

"Good morning Master Numair," the older woman chirped in a bright, sunny voice that perfectly fit her visage. "And good morning to you as well, Mistress Salmalin. I must say but you was the most beautiful bride I ever saw yesterday, up there at Pirate's Swoop. And that party was just the most joyous time ever. Did you ever see the King's Champion like that? But I s'pose, she's a woman like the rest of us and it's good to see she loves her man. Master Numair, I'll just build up this fire so's you aren't dressing in a cold room and then be gone. I've laid your breakfast on the table like you like, and I unpacked all your bags yesterday and set out today's clothes so's that they'd be ready, and the bath water is drawn and warm. I hope you don't mind, Mistress Salmalin, but I took a guess at what day dress'd best suit you for the day-after celebrations. Blue's such a pretty colour on you. Now don't layabout all day Master Numair, that bath will get cold and you've places to go and things to do and so do I. I'm not your mother after all, though I daresay you've needed a good firm hand these past few years. But you'll do better now with your pretty wife. And I hear you're awful smart, Mistress Salmalin. I'm glad to see Master Numair finally realized he needed a smart bride, not those empty headed tarts. Well, I'm off to do my baking. If you need me, send Owen. Nice meeting you, Mistress Salmalin."

She said all this with seemingly one breath as she bustled about the room, picking up their discarded clothes from the night before (Daine flushed with embarrassment), straightening furniture, and building the fire. There was no break in her monologue until she nodded sharply at Daine and Numair, who was still reclining lazily, and headed for the door.

"Thank you, Ardith," Numair called mildly after her. She waved her hand and pulled the door shut as she left. He laughed as he caught sight of the dumbstruck gaze on Daine's face. "That was Ardith. I hired her as a housekeeper when I first moved here. She had been recently widowed, and needed some help. She's stayed on ever since. She lives in the small place at the corner of my land and tends the house when I'm away. I told her we'd be here, and she said she would take care of everything for us. Owen is her nephew and cares for Spots when I'm here."

"She just walked in on us... in bed," Daine said, her face flushed crimson.

Numair sat up, his hands caressing Daine's back and shoulders. "Daine, you're my wife. Why shouldn't we be in bed together?"

She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. Of course servants would come in and out of their shared room, especially when they returned to the castle. Surely neither Alanna or Thayet would feel embarrassed at being found in beds with their husbands. Ardith hadn't shown any sign of embarrassment. She shook her head with a small smile. "This is going to take some getting used to."

Numair pressed a kiss against her lips. "Take all the time you need," he quipped, starting to trail kisses along her jaw and neck. "I'll just entertain myself in the meantime."

Daine giggled, which turned to laughter and shrieks as Numair knocked her back against the pillows, brushing feather light kisses anywhere he could reach while his clever fingers began tickling her ribs. She tried to twist away, but found that his much larger frame had pinned her against the bed, so she instead tried to capture those wandering hands. She finally succeeded in capturing both, holding them tight in both of hers.

"Tickling is not fair," she said, with mock sternness in her voice as he looked down at her.

He planted one kiss on the end of her nose. "All's fair in love and war, magelet," He sat up, pulling Daine with him, and wresting his hands free, wrapped them around her, pulling her tightly against him as he covered her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. When he finally pulled away, Daine was breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed.

"We... we should probably get up," she said with some reluctance.

"I'm quite enjoying where we are," Numair said with a raised eyebrow. "I'm not sure we've fully explored our possibilities here."

Daine laughed. "I suspect this will be less enjoyable if Alanna comes breaking the door down demanding to know why we aren't at her mid-day feast today." She pulled away, then realized that Ardith had set her shift all the way to the other side of the room. She would need to cross the room, naked, in front of Numair, to retrieve it.

Numair had noticed her glance across the room at her folded shift with some amusement. Boldly, he climbed from the bed and walked across the room, retrieving both their nightshirts from where they had neatly hung, unused, since the night before. He pulled his own over his head and crossed back to the bed, handing the smaller to the red-faced woman there.

He leaned close to her as she took it. "I've already seen it all," he whispered lasciviously, his grin wide.

Daine flushed even deeper, dropping her eyes from his, and Numair noted her discomfort with some concern. "Magelet?" he said softly. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "The other women... I mean... I'm know you're used to..." She stopped, holding the nightshirt in her hands. "I know I'm not very experienced," she finally finished quietly.

The words pierced at his heart. Did she think he wanted someone else, that he could ever want someone else? When all he had wanted for so long was her?

He gently took the nightshirt from her hands, and slid it over her head, guiding her arms through the loose sleeves. As it settled over her body, he took her face in his hands, sitting on the edge of the bed as close to her as he could.

"You are perfect," he said earnestly. "You are everything I have ever wanted and I have not known any happiness like that I felt this morning when I woke up holding you. You are perfect, and I don't deserve you, but I am going to love you every day with my whole heart so that you never realize how much better you could do."

She suddenly wrapped her arms around him, resting her cheek against his chest in a warmly familiar embrace. "You are everything I want too," she said quietly.

They spent several long moments enjoying simply holding one another before Numair drew. "And now, my love, in the spirit of magnanimity, I shall suggest that you take advantage of the bath water while it is at its warmest."

"Magna-what?" Daine said.

"Just go," Numair laughed. "We shall leave the vocabulary lessons for after breakfast, at least.


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. We just play together sometimes. _

"So?"

Daine looked up as a petite redhead threw herself down onto the bench where she was sitting.

"So... what?" Daine asked in confusion.

Alanna looked at her expectantly. "So... are the rumours true?"

"Rumours?" Daine said confusedly. "What rumours?"

"Oh please," Alanna huffed. "You don't think all those women chased him because they were hoping for a juggling lesson, do you?"

Daine's face flushed as realization dawned on her and Alanna laughed gleefully. "I'll take that as a yes," she laughed. She beckoned happily to three women standing nearby: Onua, the horsemistress and Daine's closest friend, Buri, the second in command of the Queen's Riders, and Queen Thayet herself.

Daine put her head in her hands as the chattering women came over and sat down. "Ladies, this is a rare chance," Alanna crowed. "We get all the details on Tortall's once most sought-after bachelor, straight from the horse's mouth."

"Alanna, please," Daine pleaded.

"Just for the record, I never sought-after him," Buri quipped.

"Alanna, don't tease the poor girl," Thayet said comfortingly, sitting beside Daine. "Give her time to enjoy her wedded bliss before you corrupt her."

"Corrupt?" Alanna said indignantly. "I spend my days surrounded by men who are all obsessed with who has the biggest..." She stopped herself. "Sword," she finished shortly. She sighed. "I am dying for some real-life girl talk."

Onua laughed. "As I recall, Alanna, you were quite enthusiastically participating in some 'girl-talk' with a few of the villagers last night. I'm not sure those poor women will ever be the same." She patted Daine on the shoulder. "Don't mind her. Just because you're married doesn't mean you have to spill all the details of your private life."

Alanna frowned, then leaned in. "Was it okay, at least? You're okay today?"

All of the women became much more interested then. Daine flushed again, even deeper red. "I'm fine," she said tightly.

Thayet leaned closer. "Don't be embarrassed if you need some advice. It can... take time. To... get used to one another."

Daine began wishing the ground might open up and swallow her whole. "I don't need advice," she said carefully. "I'm fine. It was... okay. I mean, better than okay... I mean..." She covered her face again as the women around her all laughed.

Onua hugged her around the shoulders. "We're happy for you, Daine," she said smilingly. "Goddess knows with all you've been through, you deserve to have someone who loves you. And it's clear as the nose on your face that Numair loves you with his whole heart."

"And it's as clear as the grin on his face that he loves you very, very well," Alanna quipped, drawing groans from everyone assembled.

"Alanna, you've been spending too much time with the boys," Buri said, shaking her head. "You should take a couple of tours with the Riders."

The redhead shrugged, finishing her drink.

"I... need to go find another drink," Daine said, standing to excuse herself. "I'll come right back," she assured them as Onua moved to come with her.

In reality, she just wanted a few minutes of quiet. She did appreciate all her friends were doing with these celebrations, but a big part of her wished she could have just stayed with Numair today, in their quiet secluded home. It had been so wonderful this morning, getting ready together, helping Numair tie his hair back, sitting together and eating breakfast. All interspersed with brief caresses and passionate embraces. Now, at this party to celebrate their marriage, it seemed as if they had been pulled apart the moment they arrived. At this moment, Numair was busy entertaining a group of children by catching and juggling random objects. He glanced up at her and smiled broadly as he caught her eye, nearly missing the apple that Aly, Alanna's daughter, threw for him.

"Mistress Salmalin? Mistress Salmalin?"

Daine started as she realized the voice was speaking to her. She smiled at the older, stooped man who stood waiting for her to acknowledge him. "I'm sorry, I'm not used to the name yet. I'm Daine. And you are?"

"I help with the horses here, Mistress Daine," the old man said. "I hoped t'meet you. I wanted to ask a favour of you."

Daine reached out with her magic, but could sense no Gift in the man. He was just a commonplace hostler. "Why do you need a favour? Is there something wrong with the Baron's horses?"

The old man shook her head. "No, Mistress. It's my dog. He's been my best friend for years. He's gettin' on, but he still has lots of life in 'im. Only lately, he's been a little... off." The man sighed. "He's all I got. I don't know what I do if he was sick and I didn't know. I thought, p'raps, you could ask 'im, maybe heal 'im, if he needs it?"

Daine smiled. She was sure it was nothing serious. Probably a senior dog with a touch of arthritis. It would only take a moment to put the old man's mind at ease. Besides, she could use a few minutes with People, who definitely didn't care about her love life. "Of course," she said with a smile. "Is he nearby?"

A wide smile split the old man's craggy face. "He's just outside, Mistress. He'll wait there for me forever."

Daine sighed, still smiling. "Take me to him."

Her step was a little bit lighter as she followed the old man. She reached out with a thread of her magic, looking for the ailing canine, but curiously, she couldn't find him. Maybe he had wandered off. Old dogs... sometimes they forgot their habits and wandered off when they'd usually stay. She threw her magic a little further, still looking.

She was so distracted she didn't even notice the large man standing in the shadows by the gate. She didn't even have time to scream when a heavy arm wrapped around her, a strong hand pressing a foul-smelling cloth to her face. She struggled against the grip, fighting to stay conscious, but the noxious fumes soon carried her to unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Numair, Daine and the rest belong to the glorious Tamora Pierce. I tried to coax Numair away, but he didn't bite..._

Numair smiled through his conversation with King Jonathan and Raoul of Goldenlake, but his attention wasn't really on them. His eyes were scanning the large hall, looking for a familiar head of smoky-brown curls.

Belatedly, he realized Jon had been asking a question. "I'm sorry, what?" he asked.

Raoul laughed, clapping the other man on the shoulder. "Sorry, Jon, but I just don't think Numair has much interest in talking page training curriculums, right now. His mind on something else." He took a swig of his drink. "Or some*one* else."

Numair accepted the good-natured ribbing with a smile. "I wasn't paying attention, Jon, I'm sorry. I just realized I don't see Daine anywhere."

"She's with Thayet and the ladies, isn't she?" the king said, looking toward the corner where the queen, Alanna, and others stood gathered.

"No, she isn't," Numair said. "I saw her earlier, when I was juggling. She was talking to an old man and went off somewhere with him. I haven't seen her since."

"Probably in stables or the kennels," Raoul said. "Or talking to a nest full of starling fledglings. You know what she's like, Numair."

He did know, but he had a strange, unsettled feeling. He wanted to find Daine. He needed to find Daine, reassure himself that she was fine. He knew he was being ridiculous, but something deep inside him told him to find Daine.

"I'm just going to go find her," he said. He flagged down a passing page, a dark-haired boy. "Can you run to the stables and see if Daine is there?"

"Check the kennels as well," Jon instructed. "Relax, Numair. She's around her somewhere. What do you think, a Stormwing swooped down and flew off with her?"

Numair couldn't say what he was thinking or why he felt so uneasy. He had waited so long for this, for her, to finally be able to say she was his. Was he just being overprotective? He strode across the hall to the group of women gathered in the corner.

"Excuse me," he said shortly, entering their midst. "Have any of you seen Daine?"

"Can't keep your hands off her?" Alanna quipped with a smile.

"Alanna, please," he said. "Have you seen her?"

The short redhead frowned at the uncharacteristically serious expression on Numair's face. "She went to get a drink a little while ago and didn't come back. I assumed she'd found another group to chat with. Numair, what's wrong?" She stood and crossed to where he was standing.

"I don't know," he said shortly. "Probably nothing. I just..." He took a deep breath. "I just need to know where she is." The dark-haired page returned. "Well?" he asked quickly.

"I couldn't find her in the stable or kennels, Master Numair," the boy answered. "Cloud is still there, but she's not. And I didn't see her anywhere else."

Thayet stood now. "Don't worry, Numair. I'm sure she hasn't gone far. We'll get the kids to help look. They'll know the hiding places." She headed off to find her children and Alanna's.

Alanna rested a quiet hand on his arm. "Numair, what is it? What aren't you saying?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing... nothing concrete. I don't know anything, I have no reason to think she hasn't just gone for a walk. But..." He struggled to find the words. "I just... something's wrong, Alanna. She would have told me if she was going to wander off, I'm sure of it."

Purple eyes met his dark ones and held them. After several long moments, Alanna nodded. "Let's get Jon. We'll find her, Numair."

XxXxXxXx

Daine's head swum and her stomach threatened to betray her. She was cold and damp and laying on something hard. With effort, she lifted her head and looked around.

The room she was in was dark and windowless. She laid on a bare wooden bench, and the walls were equally bare. It was a plain, stone room with no ornament or decoration. It was cold, too, but not the usual damp chill of a dungeon cell. It was a different cold, one that seemed to seep into her very being. And the quiet was nearly suffocating, the way it pressed in on her.

Before she could contemplate why the room seemed so abnormally cold and oppressively quiet, a door she hadn't before noticed crashed open. Two large men in black uniforms entered, followed by a lean man with shaggy dark blond hair. Something about his face was familiar, though Daine couldn't force her muddled mind to make any connections.

"Ah, so you've decided to join us, Wildmage," said the blond man in a sneering voice. "About time. I'd hate to have gone to all this trouble and you not even get to enjoy it."

She blinked at him. "Who are you?" she asked stupidly, stumbling to her feet.

His face twisted. "Of course. You and that traitor go around, ruining lives, don't even bother to find out who has been left to pick up the pieces. You sicken me."

Ruining lives? What lives? Who was this man? And what traitor?

"I don't know who you are," Daine said firmly, fighting through her confusion. "I don't know what I'm supposed to have done, or who I'm supposed to have done it with. And I don't associate with traitors."

The man laughed, a short, harsh bark. "You married one," he spat.

Realization dawned over her. "Numair?" she said softly.

"Numair," he repeated, still sneering. "Filthy traitor. He was so disgraced he tried to run and hide. And then he acts like he's so noble." He stepped close to Daine. "He's a traitor. And a murderer."

"He is NOT!" Daine said hotly, and the man sharply back-handed her. She could feel blood trickling down from her lip.

"Murderer," he repeated harshly, his face close to hers. He pulled back. "My name is Julian Staghorn," he said coldly. "Bringing back any memories now?"

Daine stared in horror. "Tristan Staghorn," she whispered.

"He was my brother," Julian said. "He was the most brilliant of all of us. Gifted. Trained. And the traitor killed him."

Strictly speaking, Numair hadn't killed him. He had turned him into an apple tree after Tristan tried to help overthrow King Jonathan at Fief Dunlath. And after Tristan had tried to attack her..

"Tristan Staghorn was a murderer," Daine said slowly. "He deserved what he got."

This time the blow was even harder, knocking Daine to the floor. She hit her head on the side of the bench.

"I won't listen to your lies," Julian hissed. "Arram Draper is a murderer. He took the thing I loved most from me. And now I'm going to take the thing he loves most from him. And once I have seen him suffer and hurt the way I've hurt, I'm going to kill him."

He turned for the door as Daine sat on the ground, holding her head. As he reached it, he turned back. "Oh, and don't even think of trying to call for any of your little friends, Wildmage. I know all about you. It won't work."

The door slammed shut behind him.

Daine stayed on the floor, holding her head. Slowly, carefully, she raised herself back onto the bench. Her head was throbbing.

She tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. Julian Staghorn. Now? After all this time? She had nearly forgotten about the man-turned-tree she and Numair had battled so long ago. Tristan had been terrifying, brewing a dangerous batch of bloodrain to poison the water supply in Fief Dunlath and kill the approaching members of the King's Own, not to mention every animal in the area.

And what did he mean about not calling her friends? Was he waiting to kill any animal who acted strangely? Slowly, she settled back onto the bench and dropped into herself, trying to find her magic and reach out to any People who might be close enough to hear. Her range was good - she could surely find some wayward cat or sparrow.

She stilled her breathing and tried to listen with her magic. Nothing. Was she too far underground? She should at least hear rats, but there was... nothing. It was as if she simply... had no connection.

Cold ran down her spine. She remembered Numair talking about rooms at the university in Carthak that dampened magic. Some that suppressed it completely. She reached out again, shouting with her magic to any People, but it was as if her cry bounced off the stone walls. Is that what this was? And if she couldn't reach out... could Numair find a way in?.

She laid down again, resting her throbbing head against her arms. She needed to stay calm and think of a plan. Numair would be looking for her. She needed to get a message to him. She just needed to reach a People. But she needed her head to stop aching. She would just close her eyes, just for a minute. Just to make her head stop aching.


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: The credit for the world goes to Tamora Pierce. The blame for this little sideways jaunt through it is solely on me._

"Numair, you need to take a break."

Alanna placed a hand on the arm of the tall mage, feeling the sizzle of his magic.

"I need to find her."

"You won't be able to find her if you're exhausted," Alanna insisted. "You've been scrying for hours. You need to take a break, eat something, catch your breath."

He looked up from the mirror, the wind atop the high tower ruffling the hair which had pulled free of his tie. "Why can't we find her, Alanna?" he asked weakly. "It wasn't that long, she should be close. Cloud or Spots or someone should be able to hear her, even if I can't."

Onua and Raoul had turned the horses loose hours ago, but they'd provided no answers. Kitten was pacing back and forth, her scales a soft pink, trilling softly. Numair slumped down to sit on the floor, and the young dragon came to sit beside him. "I'm scared, too, Kitten," Numair said softly, patting the top of her head. The dragon laid down and put her head in his lap with a sad chirp.

Alanna sat down beside them. "There are a lot of people looking for her, Numair," she said, trying to reassure him. "It's not that easy to hide someone, especially not someone like Daine."

He shook his head. "You don't understand, Alanna. Normally, I can... I... I feel Daine, usually. Since our trip to the Divine Realms, I'm always aware of her, magically, even when we're separate. Only I can't feel her right now. It's like... like I'm trying to call out to her, but it's just echoing back to me." He sighed. "I think she's in real trouble. And I can't find her."

Alanna patted his arm, trying to reassure him but not able to find any words that would help. Thayet approached and pressed a goblet of juice and a roll into Numair's hands. He took a mouthful of the juice and tore a piece off the roll, then set both aside.

"Where do we go next?" King Jonathan asked from his own seat on the floor. He had been using his own magic to try to find Daine, and the exhaustion was evident on his face. He smiled gratefully as Thayet handed him a plate with some bread and cheese. "I've never really realized what an advantage it was to have a mage who could talk to animals. I'd give anything just to ask the sparrows or squirrels what they might have seen."

"How 'bout a rat, instead?"

They looked up to see George Cooper, the Baron of Pirate's Swoop and Alanna's husband, walking up the stairs to the tower. Two of the King's Own followed him, half-dragging a third man.

Numair sat up, staring at their new guest. "It's you. You're the man I saw Daine with."

"Yes, he is," George said. "Turns out our man Garen here likes a drink. And likes to run his mouth when he's been drinking. Fortunately, a couple of my contacts like the same drinking establishment." Among his other titles, George was also second-in-command to the King's spymaster. His network of contacts extended across Tortall and beyond. He gave the man a poke between the shoulders. "Start talking, scum."

"I di'n't have anythin' to do with it," he stammered, his words slurred. "I di'n't! I just wanted to talk ter her. I di'n't know anythin' was goan t'happen!"

Numair heaved himself to his feet, crossing to stare down at the man. "You're lying," he said coldly. "Tell me where she is, or I will make sure you don't even remember you were born."

"Numair," Jonathan said, a hint of caution in his voice, but the mage did not respond. He stood staring down at Garen, his eyes hard and magical Gift shimmering around him.

Garen stared up in fear. "I just... I was just s'posed to get her to come out. Outside the castle walls. That's what they said."

"They who?" Alanna asked, trying to step between the old man and Numair.

"Di'n't give me names. Just a bag of gold and tol' me what to do. I swear." The man looked as if he might start crying.

"What did they say?" George Cooper asked, hauling the man away from Numair's icy stare. "Everything. Tell me all of it."

The man swallowed hard. "They said their master wanted her. That he'd pay well. Di'n't say why. I di'n't ask."

"What else?" George demanded.

"They talked about goin' north."

"Toward Port Caynn?" Alanna asked?

The man shook his head. "They ain't sea folk, Mistress," he said. "None of them men have spent time on a boat, I'm sure of it."

"Did they say who their master was?" George continued to question.

"No. I mean, not really." He met George's hard stare. "They... they di'n't know I was list'ning. They said something about a Staggern, or Staggor… something like that."

Numair blinked. "Staghorn," he said quietly.

The man gestured excitedly. "That! That was it!" He looked at George hopefully. "Can I go now?"

George smiled in a way that was not at all reassuring. "Of course you can," he said. "Gentlemen, take him to the keep."

The knights dragged him away, his protests dying as the descended the stairs.

"Staghorn's dead," Alanna said. "He's lying."

"He's not," Numair said shortly. "I would have known. Staghorn. How?"

"Numair, he's a tree," Jonathan said simply. "Surely that spell can't be reversed."

"I've never heard of it," Numair said. "It shouldn't be possible. But Staghorn was a great mage. Maybe... Or Glissa…" his voice trailed off. Staghorn had tried to kill Daine once before. Had he returned, to try again?

"He said they were heading north," George said. "I'll send messages along my network, see if anyone saw anything out of the ordinary." George turned and headed down the stairs.

Numair turned away from the group, walking to the edge of the tower. He leaned against the ramparts, head in his hands. Alanna crossed to stand by him. "Numair, we have a clue now. We know what direction to start looking. We'll find her."

"If Staghorn has her..." Numair began.

"Staghorn's dead," Alanna said firmly. "He can't undo a word of power."

"But..."

"It's impossible, Numair," Alanna stated. "Even you couldn't do it, and you're ten times mage Staghorn was."

He looked up, staring into the distance, fingering a gold locket which hung from a bracelet around his wrist. "Then why can't I find her, Alanna?" He sighed deeply, closing his eyes, then opened them to stare into the locket, at the miniature painting of a beautiful girl with smoky brown curls and blue-green eyes. "Talk to me, Daine. Just talk to me."


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't know if I actually have to put this here, but I will. They're not mine and they never will be, no matter how many poems I write to Numair. _

XxXxXxXx

_Talk to me Daine…._

Daine's eyes snapped open. "Numair?" she said confusedly.

"Dreaming about the traitor, Wildmage?"

Julian Staghorn was standing in the open doorway. His guards were just outside the door. "I just thought you'd like to know, your precious_ Numair_ can't even find you. You're mine, Wildmage."

Daine cringed. Her head still ached. "What's the point, then?" she asked tiredly, sitting up on her bench. "If you captured me to lure Numair here, what good is it to keep me hidden?"

The blond man gave a short, harsh laugh. "When I want Numair here, I'll simply send for him," Staghorn said. "No, Wildmage, I don't want him here. Not right now. Right now, I just want him to_ suffer_."

Daine felt something flutter at the edge of her mind, something familiar. "So what? You're just going to let me starve to death down here while you watch?"_ Hello?_ she called with her magic_. Can anyone hear me?_

"That would be far too fast and far too boring," Staghorn sneered. "No, I have plans for you, Wildmage. This is just the beginning."

_Who is that?_ Daine heard in her mind. It was People! She had reached someone. Maybe because the door was open? Did it disrupt the dampening spells? She needed to keep Staghorn here, keep him talking. But her head still ached, and the effort of talking with her magic was draining her.

"Good," she said shortly. "That just gives Numair time to find me."_ My name is Daine. I don't have time to explain, but I need help. Can you help me? _Her invisible friend had a quick, darting mind. Daine was sure she was talking to some kind of bird.

Staghorn stalked across the room and grabbed a handful of her hair. He wrenched her head back so she was forced to look at his face. The searing pain almost caused her to lose her connection with the People. _How can I help you? I don't even know where you are. Or what you are. Or who you are. Except Daine. What's a Daine?"_

"That traitor _will not_ find you," Staghorn spat. "He is nothing but a fraud. Nothing."

Daine glared back. _Daine is my name. Do you have a name?_

_Flicker_, came the response, and Daine was sure she was talking to a bird.

"Numair is one of the greatest mages in the world," she said harshly in response. "He was a better mage than your brother and he'll prove he's better than you." _Find Numair_ she thought desperately. She sent images of Numair, of Alanna, of Kitten, of Pirate's Swoop, everything she could think of. _Find_ _Numair, Flicker. Bring him here. Please._ _It's important._

If there was a response, Daine did not hear it. Staghorn had flung her to the stone floor by her hair and was screaming incoherently at her. He aimed one booted foot at her ribs, then turned and stalked out, slamming the door closed behind him.

Daine felt the loss of her small connection to the People as keenly as she felt the aching in her head and the pain in her ribs. Please Flicker, she thought. Find Numair. Just find Numair.

XxXxXxXx

_Numair is one of the greatest mages in the world. He was a better mage than your brother and he'll prove he's better than you._

Jonathan and Alanna looked around sharply at where Numair was standing, scrying mirror in hand. "That was Daine," Alanna said, though no one needed confirmation.

"It was just a flash," Numair said. "I couldn't see anything. And it's gone."

"What was she saying?" Jonathan asked. "About a brother?"

"Did Staghorn have a brother?" Alanna asked.

Numair thought, trying to recall his conversations with Tristan Staghorn when they'd been at school together, whether he'd ever said anything about a brother. "Julian!" he finally exclaimed. He looked up at the assembled group, which now included George again. "Julian Staghorn. He had just started at the university when I earned my black robe. I remember him being with Tristan on one or two occasions. He was just a child though."

"That was a long time ago," Alanna said softly. "He wouldn't be a child anymore."

"What does he look like?" George said gruffly. "What do you remember, Numair?"

Numair shook his head. "Not much. He was just another child. And I was focused on my studies. I think he might have been blond. Looked a little like Tristan, I think."

"I'll start making inquiries," George said. "A Carthaki in these areas is going to draw some attention."

Numair started. "He's not Carthaki," he said suddenly. "They were from Maren."

George grinned. "Even better." He left again.

Numair looked at Jonathan and Alanna. "When I was at the university, there were... rumours... that there were rooms, underground, that would suppress all magic." He shook his head. "I don't know if they were actually there, or just a myth, made up to frighten rambunctious little boys into obedience."

"Your teachers threatened to throw you in dungeons?" Alanna said incredulously. "That explains more than it doesn't."

He ignored her. "There are lots of ways to hide magic, to dampen it. If Daine is somewhere that is blocking her magic, it would explain why we can't find her."

"Is there some way to find one of these rooms?" Jonathan asked.

Numair paced back and forth deep in thought. "If I was close, yes. I could reach out with my Gift. If they act as I expect, it should reflect my magic back to me... Like shouting in a cave," he explained to the assembled group. "But without knowing where to look..." He trailed off.

"That's where I come in," George said, returning. "Apparently a foreigner has moved in just on the northwest edge of Fief Tameran. Doesn't have much to do with the locals, but there's rumours that he's keeping slaves."

"Maren is a slave-holding country," Alanna said.

"Find Raoul," Jonathan said briskly to a nearby servant who had brought more food and water. "Tell him to meet us in the Great Hall. And Thayet and Buri." He turned to the group. "If he's keeping slaves, we have grounds to take a look. We can send the King's Own, and a group of Riders. I think all of the First were here for the wedding."

Alanna was speaking into a fire in her hand, giving instructions for hostlers to start preparing horses.

Kitten chirped from her place beside Numair, tugging at the mage's tunic; she'd refused to leave his side since they first discovered Daine missing. "Not to worry, Kitten," Numair said, patting her head. "We won't leave you behind. Let's go find Daine."


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: All thanks to the glorious Mistress Pierce for her world. I'm just playing in it. _

Daine fought against the tight grip of unconsciousness. Her head swam with the mere effort of opening her eyes. She was still laying on the floor of that cold, dark room.

She remembered Alanna once talking about a squire who had been injured when he hit his head. They'd thought it was nothing, but hours later, he had died. He had been bleeding inside his brain. Is that what was going on? Was she slowly dying?

"Numair," she whispered to the quiet, still room.

She remembered how it had felt to wake up in his arms that morning. Had it only been that morning? How much time had passed since he had held her, laughing and giggling and then breathless with the intensity of his kiss?

They'd had only one night together. Was that all she would ever have?

She remembered the anger in Numair's face when he had turned Tristan Staghorn into a tree. She remembered the way he had lashed out against Emperor Ozorne for suggesting that he was teaching her only because he wanted her in his bed. She remembered the haggard expression on his face when he thought she'd been killed in the Divine Realms.

She wondered about Cloud. Would Onua take the temperamental gray mare? How would Cloud do, without anyone to talk to? She wasn't like a normal horse anymore.

And Kitten. Numair would care for her, Daine was sure. But she'd already lost one ma. Would she understand when Daine didn't come home?

She wanted to see Numair, just one last time. _Please, Black God, if you're going to take me, just let me say goodbye to Numair._

XxXxXxXx

Raoul looked furious. "I'm sure he's hiding something, but we can't get anything out of him."

Numair looked on, equally furious. It had been a hard ride from Pirate's Swoop, but they had reached the edge of Tameran. Julian Staghorn was there, hiding away in a small cottage. "I don't need him to tell me anything. Just let me search the land."

Alanna shook her head. "I don't think that's a good idea, Numair. We don't know what kind of traps he has set up. If we go rushing in, we could be in a worse spot than we are now."

"Are you finding anything that might suggest one of those rooms?" Jonathan asked. "If we have some idea of where to go, we could send a smaller group in, scout the area out."

Numair shook his head. "No. But I don't even know if what I'm looking for actually exists or if this is how it would actually act," he snapped impatiently. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jon. I didn't mean to snap. I'm just worried." He looked down at the dragon riding with him. "Kitten? Is there anything hiding?"

The dragonet gave a small, sad whistle.

Jon brought his horse alongside Spots and reached to pat the other man's shoulder. "I understand, Numair. We're all worried." He looked over at Raoul. "What about his servants, or slaves, or whatever they are? Could we get information from them?"

Raoul shook his head. "Everyone in the house is a mute. I'm sure they're slaves. Only ones we could talk to were the big men by the gate, and they might as well have been mutes, for all they'd say." He looked over. "Numair, are you picking up your wife's talents with the wildlife?"

There was a brightly-coloured bird flitting about Numair's face, chattering excitedly. "I don't know," he said. "Unfortunately, unlike Daine, I don't speak songbird."

Kitten sat up suddenly, trilling and whistling, and the bird suddenly swooped to flit about her face.

"That bird is not acting normally," Alanna said tightly. "Numair?"

He was watching the bird and Kitten. "Kitten?" he said softly.

The small dragon looked up at him and chattered, her scales shimmering between blue and pink and red. She looked expectantly between Numair and the bird, who had landed on Numair's saddlehorn.

"Kitten, if he knows where we can find Daine, then lead the way."

Kitten sat up straight and gave an excited chirp. Spots moved forward as the dragon stared into the distance.

XxXxXxXx

Daine could hardly lift her head when she heard the door open again.

"Well, Wildmage, looks like we're ahead of schedule," Staghorn sneered. "The traitor already traced you back to me. Not that he can prove anything. Just sitting out there with the King's lapdogs, waiting for me to make a mistake."

"Numair's here?" she asked weakly. She tried to reach through the gap in the door with her magic, but it flitted away from her.

"Yes, _Numair's here_," he said snidely. "Which means I can kill him now. And I don't need you anymore."

He was going to kill her, Daine thought. Or probably have one of his henchmen do it. She closed her eyes again, waiting for whatever blow was about to fall.

Suddenly, there was a shout and a crash. Daine opened her eyes to see Staghorn and his cronies laying on the ground, and a tall, lanky figure walking toward her. This was it. She must have died. This was the Black God coming to get her.

The figure stooped and lifted her, cradling her against his chest. Daine marveled at how the Black God smelled exactly like sandalwood and spice and... Numair. She lifted her head and looked into familiar dark eyes.

"Numair?" she said weakly.

"I'm here, magelet," came the deep, reassuring voice. "I'm here."


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I almost forgot the disclaimer on this one. You know what it should say. _

"Everyone out!" Alanna barked.

"I'm not going anywhere," Numair snapped back.

"When I say everyone, I mean everyone!"

"She is_ my wife_," he snarled in response.

"And she is my patient!"

Duke Baird quickly stepped between them. The palace's chief healer had been at Pirate's Swoop for the wedding; Alanna had called for him as soon as she saw Daine. He took the taller man's shoulders and turned him away from the bed where Daine was laying.

"Numair, her injuries are serious," Baird said quietly. "You understand magic better than anyone in this room. If you're standing here, hovering over us, you're only going to be a distraction. Go. We'll come to you as soon as we can."

Onua and Jonathan each took an arm, leading the mage out of the room.

Numair turned and stared at the closed door, then sank slowly onto the floor. Onua sat beside him. Kitten, who had followed them out of the room, leaned against his other side.

"She'll be okay," Onua said. "She has Alanna and Baird. She'll be okay."

"Why didn't I get there sooner?" Numair said weakly. "Why did I even give him to opportunity to hurt her?"

Jonathan crouched to speak to him. "We got her back, Numair. Staghorn is in the dungeons now, under heavy guard. We'll take him back to Corus to stand trial."

Numair put his head in his hands. "But this was my fault. He attacked Daine to get back at me."

"He attacked Daine because he's a madman," Onua said firmly. "His brother was a madman. You did nothing wrong. Except maybe not turning him into a pear tree when you had a chance."

Numair chuckled weakly. "Probably would have produced sour fruit," he said wryly. He laid his head back against the stone wall.

Jonathan patted his arms. "Get some rest, Numair. She's in good hands now."

He didn't know how long he had sat there. Kitten had fallen asleep, her head again resting in his lap. He was exhausted. When he had suddenly became aware of Daine's presence, following the little brightly coloured bird, he had used nearly all of his Gift to take himself to her. But he couldn't sleep. He just kept seeing Daine, laying on the cold floor of that room, bruised and bleeding.

When Alanna and Baird finally came out, he could only stare up at them from his place on the floor. Alanna knelt beside him, brushing his hair back from his face in a mothering gesture. She looked exhausted as well.

"She's going to be okay, Numair," Alanna said. "She needs rest, and time, but she'll be okay."

He covered his face with his hands, stifling a choked sob. Alanna grasped his shoulder reassuringly. Kitten, who had woken when the door opened, gave a soft trill.

Baird put out his hand to help the lanky mage off the floor. "She's awake. You can go see her now. And then you need to get some rest. You're going to collapse, Numair."

"Not too long," Alanna cautioned. "She needs sleep."

Numair shook Duke Baird's hand and gave a thankful hug to Alanna before he pushed open the door and quietly slipped in, Kitten close behind him.

He could see Daine laying on the bed. She was still very pale, with dark rings under her eyes. Alanna had healed her split lip and the dark bruise which had marred her face, but the strain of the past days was still etched on her features. He crossed to the bed and leaned over her, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Her blue-gray eyes fluttered open. "Numair," she breathed. "You found me."

"I will always find you," he said. He felt his eyes fill with tears. "I thought I had lost you, magelet."

She smiled weakly. "You're not getting rid of me that easily." She coughed, cringing, and Numair lifted a cup of water to her lips, helping her take a drink.

He settled her back against the pillows. "You should get some rest, my love," he said, not really wanting to leave her.

She grasped his hand. "Will you stay with me?"

"I'm not sure Alanna would approve," he said carefully, but she squeezed his hand, her eyes pleading.

"Please don't leave me, Numair. Please, just stay."

He gazed down at her, then nodded. Drawing his hand back, he quickly stripped off his tunic and boots, then climbed onto the bed beside her. He gathered her into his arms, her face nuzzling his chest.

"I love you, magelet. I love you."

"I love you too, Numair." She took a deep breath, and Numair felt her start to relax in his arms, drifting back to sleep. Numair pressed his lips to the top of her head again and closed his eyes, letting the sweet smell of her hair wash over him.

Alanna and Baird entered the room a little while later. Alanna's lips narrowed and her hands fisted on her hips when she looked at the scene.

Numair lay stretched out on the bed, Daine cradled in his long arms. Her head rested against his chest, and his cheek laid against her hair. Neither had stirred when the door opened. Kitten had climbed up on the chair next to the bed and was curled in a ball, sound asleep as well.

Baird put a hand on her arm as she started forward. "He's exhausted," he said quietly. "He won't get any rest sitting on the floor outside this room. And she's sleeping."

She scowled as she looked at him, then over at the scene on the bed. She could see the dark shadows painted under Numair's eyes, where his long lashes laid against his cheek. Weariness was etched in his face. With another scowl at Baird, she walked over to the bed, lightly touching Numair's forehead, a flash of her purple magic coming from her fingers. Her expression softened slightly. She lifted a blanket from the foot of the bed and carefully spread it over her friend.

"Men," she grumbled as she walked back by Baird and left the room.

XxXxXxXx

Daine awoke slowly. Her head still felt foggy, but it was the fog of fatigue, not pain. And she was acutely aware that she was no longer laying on a cold, stone floor, but rather was wrapped in a pair of very warm arms, whose hands were stroking methodically along her back.

She lifted her head to see familiar dark eyes gazing down at her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, tears filling her eyes.

"It's okay," Numair crooned reassuringly as the tears spilled out onto her cheeks, one large hand cupping her face. "You're safe now, Daine."

"I thought I'd never see you again," she gasped, her tears making her breathless.

He grinned. "You're not getting rid of me that easily," he quipped.

Daine laughed through her tears to hear her own teasing words said back to her, and Numair lowered his face to press a kiss to her lips. She reveled in the warm sweetness of his lips moving against hers, until the bristles of his chin scraped along her sensitive skin.

"Ugh," she grimaced, pulling away.

"Ugh?" Numair repeated, incredulously. "I tear the countryside apart looking for you, and ask only a kiss in return, and you say ugh?"

"Don't be dramatic," Daine told him. "You're scratchy. When did you last shave?" She ran her hand over the stubble of his jaw.

Nuair raised a hand to his own face, looking sheepish. "The day after our wedding," he admitted. "So, five days ago? To be fair, I was a little distracted."

"It's been five days?" she asked incredulously.

"It felt like an eternity," Numair admitted. "It took us two days to figure out Staghorn had taken you, and another day to find you." He stroked her hair. "You've been asleep for more than a day and a half."

"I still feel like a bag of wet noodles," Daine admitted.

"That's because you need more rest, and not to be carousing with your husband," came a new voice. Both turned to see Alanna entering the room. "Surely the two of you can keep your hands off one another long enough to let her heal," she added wryly.

"We were hardly 'carousing', Alanna," Numair answered drily. "I awoke a few hours ago and was simply lying here. Daine just woke in the past few minutes."

"Where are we?" Daine suddenly asked.

"Fief Tameran," Alanna answered. "They're pretty eager to get back into the King's favour after letting that madman house on their land." She sighed. "Not that they had any way of knowing who Staghorn was or what he'd done. Dungeons that can suppress magic." She shuddered. "I don't fancy spending any time in one of those." She dropped into the chair beside the bed, which Kitten had vacated when she arrived.

"I don't recommend it," Daine said. "But how could he not realize the door created a gap? Isn't that the first thing you'd check?" She felt a little awkward, laying in bed with Numair while they chatted casually with Alanna.

"Tristan could be frighteningly over-confident as well," Numair said. "I, for one, am terribly thankful it runs in the family." He shifted so that he could converse more easily with Alanna while still holding Daine. "We should go back, try to take apart the spells."

"Jon called more mages from the university. They're working on it right now," Alanna said.

"And Staghorn?" Daine asked.

"On his way to the palace with the King's Own," Alanna answered. "He's not going to be bothering anyone for a very long time."

Numair frowned. "We should re-examine the protections on the keep. If Staghorn could build that dungeon, he might have powers we haven't anticipated."

Alanna sighed. "We're on it, Numair. We did capture enemy mages before you came around to turn them into trees." She shoved her chair back and stood, ignoring his dirty look. "They're going to bring some food up to the two of you. If you're feeling better this afternoon, we can probably move everyone back to Pirate's Swoop."

"If we can move back to Pirate's Swoop, surely Daine and I can return to my home," Numair said carefully.

Alanna frowned at him. "I'd rather you be at Pirate's Swoop, where I can keep an eye on her," she said. "That was a nasty head injury. Plus multiple broken ribs, internal bleeding..."

"I have it on authority that she had a very good healer," Numair said with a grin.

"We are only a few minutes' ride away," Daine countered. Numair grinned even more broadly at Alanna.

Alanna looked back and forth between the two of them. "Fine. But I swear, if either of you ignore my instructions just so you can act like lovesick newlyweds and totally undo all the healing I've done, Numair, I will geld you."

Numair started. "Why am I getting all the blame?" he asked indignantly.

"Because I know what men are like!" she shot back. With that, she turned on her heel and stalked from the room.


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I want them to be mine, but they're not. All credit to TP._

Numair had given her the option of riding with him or riding in the wagon, and since Alanna had backed him up, Daine made the trip back to Pirate's Swoop sitting astride Spots, Numair comfortingly at her back again. She never would have admitted it, but she was a little glad that they had both insisted. She was still exhausted, and simply getting herself up, bathed, and dressed had left her feeling weak and trembly. She was thankful to have Numair's arms around her as they rode, and had been enjoying the surreptitious caresses of his long fingers and the feather-light kisses he pressed against the back of her neck every now and then when he was confident Alanna was distracted.

Daine nearly fell as she slid from Spots's back when they finally arrived back at Numair's home, grasping at a stirrup to keep herself upright. Numair caught her deftly, one strong arm wrapping around her waist. Spots, too, leaned in to give her support, sensing her weakness. She stroked his neck gratefully.

"I guess you figure it's your job to take care of me now too," she said softly to the beautiful horse.

_The Stork-man would have let you fall off already if it were not for me, _she heard the horse say coolly. _I did not know if he had any better sense when he is on the ground._

Daine giggled.

"I hate to interrupt what I'm sure is a riveting conversation," Numair began, "but I think you should get inside, where you can rest." He nodded to Owen, who had just appeared and smartly took Spots in hand.

Daine was absurdly thankful for Numair's arm still firmly wrapped around her waist; she wondered if there was a romantic way to suggest he carry her over the threshold again, as her legs felt as if they each weighed forty pounds and were attached to heavy stones. It was only a short walkway to the entrance, but at that moment, it felt like miles.

_You can do this_, she thought stubbornly, willing herself to take a step forward.

Her body disagreed, and she stumbled. Without another word, Numair swept her into his arms, holding her cradled against his chest. "You are still feeling the effects of your healing," he said softly. "Perhaps we should have stayed at Tameran a little longer. The trip has clearly exhausted you."

"I'll be fine once I can rest," Daine insisted, placing her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder.

"I hope so," he answered wryly. "I, for one, do not want to face Alanna should you fall ill. I have seen her prowess with a sword."

She laughed again as the front door burst open to reveal a familiar short, plump woman.

"Oh, Master Numair, Owen tol' me what happened to our dear Mistress Salmalin. You poor, poor duck, being spirited away and you just married. Why, I was so worried I let a whole batch of bread burn almost black. Even the chickens didn't want it. But don't you worry now, Mistress, you're back home and I brought up a big pot of soup with some lovely fresh bread - I didn't let that batch burn, you can trust - and a good hearty meal and some rest and I know you'll be just as right as rain again. My, but I'm so happy to see you both!"

Daine felt more than heard Numair's low chuckle at the short, bustling woman's appearance and speech. "Thank you, Ardith," he said kindly. "It is heartening to come home to such a lovely greeting."

"Well, I got word 'round noon that you were coming back and I said, I am not letting them two come back to a cold house and Master Numair's cooking, not after all that poor girl went through. And you was probably worried sick the whole time, Master Numair, and I know what you're like when you're distracted, don't eat or sleep or anything. So now the fires are all done and you can have a nice dinner and then let that poor girl get to bed," Ardith bustled on. "You don't need me underfoot, but if you do, you know how to find me. And don't let that soup get cold."

"Thank you for everything, Ardith," Daine said gratefully. "I do hope we get a chance to sit and get to know each other sometime."

Ardith flapped her hand. "Oh, don't you even worry, Mistress Salmalin. We'll have us lots of cups of tea, I expect. I'm sure you know what this one is like when he gets into his books. Won't rouse for nothin'. You just come look me up those days, I'll make sure you're tended to and kept in good company. Now, Master Numair, you get that girl in the house out of this chill." With that she strode out of the house and stumped down the small path without a backwards glance.

"I probably need to increase her pay," Numair mused, watching her go. He carefully navigated Daine through the open door, being careful not to bump her head.

The room was filled with the scent of fresh bread and hearty beef stew, and a fire roared in the fireplace. "You definitely need to increase her pay," Daine answered, basking in the warmth as Numair set her in a large, soft chair in front of the fire. Gentle hands peeled away her cloak and replaced it with a lovely, soft colourful blanket that she suspected was more of Ardith's doing.

It was comfortingly domestic and mundane to sit quietly by the fire, watching Numair move about the kitchen, spooning the stew into bowls and cutting the bread. He refused to let her help, or even move, instead bringing the food to her on a tray.

"You know, if someone had told me before that this is what marriage was like, I wouldn't have waited so long," she teased. "I mean, being waited on hand and foot - a girl could get used to this."

Numair chuckled as he set the tray on a table near her. He leaned over her, using one elegant finger to tip her chin up. "Make no mistake, magelet. I expect to be paid for my services as well," he said wolfishly before pressing a kiss against her lips. He dropped light, tickling kisses across her cheeks, nose and forehead before pulling away, as Daine giggled.

They sat together as the sky darkened outside, talking quietly as they ate the delicious stew that Ardith had prepared. Numair told her about his youth at the university, his teachers and his classmates. She knew he'd shared those stories with few since coming to Tortall, wanting to put his Carthaki past behind him, but the recent events seemed to have made him nostalgic. She listened quietly as he told her about Tristan Staghorn as a student, about Emperor Ozorne and Varice Kingsford and their early days together.

"I often wonder if I missed some opportunity to change them, even then," he mused thoughtfully.

"Numair, don't be silly," she protested. "You were children!"

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But I could see many of the flaws that would later become their worst characteristics. Ozorne's need for power and control, Varice's desire to associate with the powerful, Tristan's maliciousness..."

"Children change," Daine insisted. "And besides, you weren't responsible for teaching them morality. Surely that should have fallen to your teachers!"

His eyes became wistful. "I'm not sure they were all well-suited to that particular task," he said quietly.

Daine leaned forward, reaching out to take his hand. "You can't fix the whole world, Numair," she said softly. "Though it's sweet that you want to." A playful grin danced at the edge of her mouth. "Now - enough of all the gloom and doom. Aren't you supposed to be telling me beautiful tales of romance so you can sweep me off my feet and have your way with me?"

Numair chuckled. "Of course, my fair maiden. Allow me to clear these dishes away so that the feet-sweeping may begin!"

She giggled as he pressed a brief, sweet kiss against her mouth, and another to her forehead before gathering their bowls and trays.

XxXxXxXx

Numair stared into the dancing flames before him, lulled by the quiet of the night and the crackling of the fire. Daine slept soundly cradled in his arms and he could think of nowhere else he wanted to be at this moment than right here, knowing she was safe. He knew that he should eventually transfer them both to the bedroom - his back would not thank him for a night spent sitting in this chair - but at the moment he was content to simply enjoy holding his beautiful wife in the night's stillness.

Unbidden, his mind wandered again back to Carthak - to Ozorne, and Varice, and Glissa, and Tristan. To people he had believed friends, until he had been forced to flee from them. When they had captured Julian Staghorn, he had screamed at Numair until his voice was hoarse, calling him a murderer and a traitor. For many years, Numair had felt like a traitor. Hiding out in crowded cities, afraid to use his magic, hiding himself - he had wanted desperately to go back to Carthak, to change his friends and make them see what he saw, so that they could all be together again. And he knew he could not do so.

He had spent his early years in Tortall keeping most people at arm's length. He didn't want to make friends just to find out they were someone he would have to run from again.

Except Alanna. He had tried to hold her away, but she'd have none of it. To her, he was like a lost puppy that needed a home, and she was determined to give him love even when he didn't want it. And then Onua, eventually Jonathan and Thayet… and then Daine. Daine had been like coming up for air. He felt like he recaptured the youth he'd lost when he fled Carthak when he first met her, full of energy and vivacity, those blue-grey eyes sparkling with mischief.

He shifted his arms as Daine curled into him closer, automatically rearranging the blanket that was draped over both of them. He really should move her to the bed.

He could hear the waves crashing into the shore below and remembered, with a grimace, watching Daine collapse while she sat next to those same waters because she was trying to make her heart "be quiet". His own heart had nearly stopped as well when she fell. And he had berated himself when he realized what she had done. How could he have been so stupid! Why hadn't he explained to her what she was doing, how her magic affected her? He had been as arrogant as any of his old classmates in assuming her magic was somehow less than his own - and she had nearly paid the price.

He remembered the chill that had spread down his spine when he looked at the letter that Ozorne claimed Daine had written, saying she was running away. Of course she hadn't written it, but the ruse was even more frightening. The idea that Daine was now at the mercy of Ozorne. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to tear the castle brick from brick. And the strange feeling that had spread through him when he realized the destruction that Daine had wrought when she believed Ozorne had killed him. The first inkling that she might care for him as he did for her.

"We've had quite the journey," he whispered against her hair.

"Mmmm?" Daine mumbled sleepily.

He smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "Time for bed, magelet," he said.

"Okay," she murmured, snuggling deeper into his hold.

Numair chuckled, carefully rising to his feet while holding the sleeping woman in his arms. He carried her into the adjacent bedroom, and with some coaxing and cajoling, he managed to strip off the light day dress and cotton shift she had borrowed from Lady Celine of Tameran for the trip home. He tucked Daine into the blankets before stoking up the fire and stripping off his own clothes. He slipped into the bed beside her, pulling her back into his arms and sighing as she snuggled back into his hold.

Of all the places he had been in his life, this was where he was meant to be.


End file.
